The Traitor and the Old Fart
by feathered moon wings
Summary: Caliban knows it's nothing personal but, would it kill the old man to be civil with him? At least a tiny bit? He had enough with his own inflicted guilt to be dealing with the Mahatma Gandhi of the mutant race being a dick to him. "Are you going to stop being a fucking asshole to me?" He asks. He's surprised when the Professor says "Did you know I used to have a sister?"


Caliban knows it's nothing personal and that, were Charles in a sounder state of mind, he wouldn't dare to talk to him like that. But God, would it kill the old man to be civil with him? At least a tiny bit? He had enough with his own inflicted guilt to be dealing with the Mahatma Gandhi of the mutant race being a dick to him.

The albino raises his head, the mean chattering of the old fart had ceased, had he fallen asleep perhaps? No. He was just staring at the ceiling with a far-off look on his face.

Caliban sighs and stands up from his chair, sitting on the bed by Charles's side.

"Are you going to stop being a fucking asshole to me?" He asks with his equivalent of a raised eyebrow.

Charles doesn't look at him; his eyes linger on the thousand holes in the carcass of the water tower like he's trying to watch the sky through them.

"Did you know I used to have a sister?" The Professor asks after a moment.

Caliban frowns at the sudden change of topic and the odd bit of information.

"I thought you were an only child?" He does not mention that it most certainly can't be because he _worked_ for the bad guys, found information for them, sold peoples whereabouts like he was selling popcorn. If Xavier had a sister, he would've _known_. Would've sold the shit out of it, poor sister would've probably ended up dead before the whole of mutant kind began to die.

"Well, it all depends on your point of view, she was adopted… more or less." Charles looks at him for a fleeting second, something mischievous passing through the corner of his eyes.

Caliban _does not_ want to think about what that look implies. It feels like a 'not-really-legal' kind of look.

"Not a mutant then I presume?"

"Oh, good lord, she was most definitely a mutant!" The old man huffs a laugh but a coughing fit assaults him then. Quickly the albino stands up, runs to the table of plants and fills a cup of water from the pitcher He helps Charles drink it slowly, he's still coughing like a madman. It stops albeit slowly.

"Thanks." The Professor whispers with damaged chords.

They fall into silence, it makes Caliban feel depressed. He's grown tired of the silence and he's not doubt that Charles's has too. There aren't many mutants left, not for him to locate and not for Charles to feel.

"So… your sister, what kind of mutant was she?" The younger man asks, he places a tentative hand on top of the other's arm, Charles lets him.

"She could shift." The old man says simply "Didn't much like her skin when we were young." Charles' eyes are sad as he says this.

"No a lot of us do," Caliban says as he looks at his own transparently pale skin and thinks of his discolored eyes. He's like a walking corpse. Disgusting.

He nearly jumps as he feels movement under his hand, the Professor changes their position and now he holds the other's white hand.

"I think it suits you beautifully," Charles says with an honest, open look in his eyes.

"Yeah, right-" The albino rolls his eyes but the Professor won't let him finish.

"It does." The old man is silent for a moment until he looks at Caliban's eyes again "You've ever seen those pure white peacocks? Quite strange in their species, but breathtakingly beautiful, wouldn't you agree?"

His breath is suddenly stuck in his throat. He knew Charles to be kind, to find something amazing in every mutation, but he had never expected the man to be like that towards him, would've never dreamed of it. He was a disgusting traitor and he didn't disserve this kind of… He can't look at the bright blue eyes of the Professor anymore; he lowers his head.

They are quiet again. Caliban hates it but he wouldn't dare to try and start another conversation after how this one had turned out.

"Hey, Caliban…" The soft, grainy voice of Charles breaks the silence. If sound could be described as warm, that's what it would sound like.

"Hm?" He doesn't look at the other, he can't.

"I'm sorry I'm an asshole to you sometimes."

Caliban lifts his head and looks at the other, unbelieving. They laugh, naturally awkward. Charles gives his arm a squeeze, it's nice, just being here with him.

The Professor lifts his head as if he listened to something, but not with his ears it seemed.

"Ah, can you smell that? Looks like our very own knight is returned home."

Caliban takes a deep breath and smells the air, it does indeed smell like Logan's getting closer. He'll arrive in some fifteen minutes.

"It'll see if I can cook us something." Caliban smiles down at Charles and tries to say thank you just with his eyes. He can't remember the last time anyone thought of him as beautiful, it… it means the world to him and more.

The old man smiles warmly at the albino, he understands.

* * *

 **Abril: Wow, two X-Men stories in two days, I'm on a friking roll haha. This is not particularly good but it's okay.**

 **Also, the fu? Why isn't Caliban on the tags? I'm honestly really offended right now.**


End file.
